


Drabble - Collection

by calamityjo



Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: Burning, Cock & Ball Torture, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sounding, Torture, Whipping, collectkin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamityjo/pseuds/calamityjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles related to either The Collector (2009) or The Collection (2012). Primarily focusing on Arkin and the Collector and some fucked up shit. Most of these were born of prompts sent to my rp/writing tumblr (the-one-he-kept.tumblr.com)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hurts so Good

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Arkin likes being hurt

Arkin felt the sharp sting across his back, it was followed by others. He was being whipped. He was being whipped and he was being quiet.

The one hurting him seemed to hate it when Arkin was silent. It made him try harder to get him to scream. To hurt him more.

He could hear frustrated grunts behind him as the lashes fell. Arkin knew it wouldn’t be long before he moved on to something new and the idea actually excited him.

Months ago. he would have resisted and hated himself for liking any of it. But Now?

Well, now it helps him survive and gives him what little joy he can get. No matter what that joy looks like.

“That all you got?” Arkin challenged when the lashes stopped. 

His knees felt weak when he saw the glow of a cigarette in the hand of his captor. The man grabbed his dick roughly, making Arkin sway where he hung. Holding Arkin’s dick punishingly tight, the man slowly lowered the cigarette until its glow lit up the head of his dick.

Arkin squirmed, mouthing the word ‘please’ over and over.

The cigarette danced teasingly close, he could feel the heat radiating off it. Arkin whimpered and bucked his hips, trying desperately to get the burning ember to touch his sensitive skin. 

Finally, the cigarette was put out firmly on the head of his cock. He let out a mixed cry of pain and pleasure. It hurt so intensely that wires must have gotten crossed in his brain that a wave of pleasure, rivaling that of a climax, hit him after the burn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "can you do something with sounding?"
> 
> Oh, hell yes, I can. It got kinda long. I like sounding okay. like a whole lot.

Arkin was firmly strapped down. It wasn’t just to keep his arms and legs immobile but to keep his hips still. Ropes bit tightly into his skin around his hips. It was strange how much he liked his hips being forced into immobilization. He even found he liked having ropes cut into his skin near his groin.

There was a very good reason his hips needed to be still.

His captor had been working on stretching the inside of his dick for weeks. They had started small and worked up and now Arkin stared at a long metal rod the same width as his pinky.

But he wouldn’t get the rod yet.

His captor pulled on his dick before slipping a tight metal ring down to its base. Another ring, that looked more like a shackle, was put into place above his balls. It forced his balls to stick a good inch and half away from his body.

Arkin tried to squirm through this but it only dug the ropes deeper into his skin.

While there was no-one to hear Arkin scream or carry on, his captor saw it fit to strap an open mouth gag on him. Arkin felt so completely exposed like that that he would shiver. He couldn’t move or stop anyone from doing anything they wanted to him. 

His dick was getting hard from some harsh man-handling and even a slap. Then finally, a clear gel was smeared on his cock head and then the rod. His captor held his cock firmly in hand while he let gravity take the sound. He pushed it inside his urethra only to get past initial resistance. After that, it began to cleanly slide down. Arkin strained to watch, groaning through the gag as his dick fucking swallowed the rod. It burned as it went, god how he started to like that feeling.

Gravity did its job well and the rod went so far inside, it neared his bladder. It felt strange, then stranger still when his captor nudged his dick from side to side. Then slowly, he started to fuck his dick with it.

Arkin was breathing harder and hard and wishing he could buck his hips. He whined around the gag when he felt he was going to slow. Of course, this made him go slower.

He was allowed no other stimulation than the metal rod sliding cleanly in his dick. This drove him insane. He tried everything to move. Even though his dick was being fucked from the inside, he had the strongest urge to fuck something. Just to rut against something until he was spent.

He wasn’t allowed that though. Instead he got a slow building torture. The rod was twisted and pulled as his dick got rock hard. The rod was slipped out just as Arkin was beginning to get lost in pleasure. He groaned after the loss.

A new, heavily ribbed rod was shown to him. It looked like a string of metal beads fused together. Arkin could only shiver when he saw it.

It was worked in one agonizing bulb at a time. One bulb, then a twist and it went on like that until it was seated and only a single large bulb peered above his cock head. By then, Arkin was shivering and even drooling with sensation.

His eyes were closed when he felt the finishing touch. A tight ring forced over his dick, it pressed against each bulb as it was forced down. Each bulb sent a shockwave of pleasure though him, only an inch down his dick and he was coming.And the ring didn’t stop, it sent new intense waves of sensation through him with each bulb. He could feel his cum building up in the spaces between the bulbs.

Then his cum was quite literally pulled from his body as the bulbous rod was pulled out. His seed spilled everywhere.

The rod was immediately held over his open mouth gag. Globs of his own cum splattering into his mouth and on to his face.


	3. Boot Fetish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _May I ask for a fic? One with arkin having a secret boot fetish and some stomping? Please and thank you!!!_

Arkin was slammed face down onto the concrete floor. Before he even tried to get up, a booted foot came down on his left hand. He cried out in pain, louder than he otherwise would, to cover his strange excitement. He didn’t struggle, but he was breathing hard, harder than a brief scuffle called for.

The weight on his hand shifted and Arkin found himself staring at the familiar boot. The smell got to him. Blood, dirt, sweat and leather - that shouldn’t be appealing. 

Aware his captor was watching him, Arkin tore his eyes away. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt he needed to conceal it from him. Maybe out of fear his captor would somehow use it against him. To make him more like whatever it was this nutjob wanted.

But would that be so bad…? No. No, he’s not going to start thinking like that. He’s not–

His thoughts were shattered when his captor slammed his foot against Arkin’s head. His head turned to the side he then felt boot tread press into the side of his face! The smell was stronger and so was the urge to turn over and…and.. 

“…fuck,” Arkin muttered pathetically. Why does he like this?

The foot keeping his face pinned between it and the floor lifted. He groaned at the loss.

A kick to his side prompted him to roll on to his back. Actually looking at his captor for the first time since he hit the floor, he realized something. Those strange reflective eyes looked… excited. A different kind of excited, the kind Arkin wasn’t used to seeing. Did… Did he already know?

His captor’s foot came down painfully between his legs. It could’ve hurt a lot more, Arkin realized, most of the force was centered on his dick, rather than his balls. Arkin grabbed the man’s leg, trying to push him off before… before it started to feel good.

Arkin’s struggle just made the boot’s deep treads dig and grind against him. He groaned, almost sobbing, as the man started to rock his boot against him.

He knows, Arkin concluded. His dick was starting to harden under the pressure of his boot. Starting to panic, Arkin tried to wiggle himself free.

That was a mistake.

The man just pushed his boot against him with more force and Arkin’s struggling only served to create more stimulation. God, his dick shouldn’t be rock hard over this.

Embarrassingly, it only took the man grinding his boot against his dick again to make him cum. Some insane part of his mind wanted to lick his cum from the man’s boot as soon as he was done. He tried to shut that thought out but when the pressure left his crotch, he couldn’t help it. He rolled forward and went for it.

The startled, almost squeak like sound, that came from his captor made it worth it. 

Just for that, Arkin decided he would take his time and enjoy it. Licking and sucking at the toe of his boot.


	4. Stockholm Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stockholm Syndrome for a prompt? Please and thank you :)"
> 
> At long last! I get to you, you lovely prompt. My brain power fizzled on a good ending but there you go.

It started slow. Little throw away thoughts. Finding great significance in the smallest of comforts.

In the back of his mind, Arkin knew what was happening. He wondered if it was intentional on the masked man’s part. The thought didn’t disturb him as it would ages ago. No, it makes him feel important. So completely and totally valued. 

He’s important and not to be thrown away like the others. He keeps him alive while he kills others. 

The masked man had his hand on the back of Arkin’s neck as he guided him down the hall. He gently urged Arkin away from the traps that lined the walls and doors. Arkin found it comforting. He was looking out for him and keeping him from accidental injury.

Yes, Arkin knew what happened but he really didn’t care anymore. The man found a way to make Arkin like him and Arkin didn’t want to fight it anymore.

He was valued and that’s all that mattered.

The masked man led him into a nice room. An actual nice room, not the decayed rooms he was used to seeing. It was an actual nice room. Clean and bright. No stains. It was like a high end hotel suite, one of those rooms he couldn’t dream of affording before he came here. 

Arkin felt so filthy and unworthy in the presence of a nice clean room. As if the masked man could read his mind, he led him into the attached bathroom. He gestured for Arkin to use it. And Arkin did.

Nudity in front of the man stopped mattering a long time ago. So Arkin had no hesitation in taking advantage of the bathroom regardless if he was being watched. While Arkin still considered himself straight, he would suck that man’s dick for giving him a chance to have a real shower. With hot water! 

The shower was probably a little too warm but Arkin didn’t care. Hot water for the first time in.. in… since before the masked man. 

Arkin wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the shower. He lost count of the number of times he washed his hair, just because he could. His fingers were pruned by the time he convinced himself to step out of the shower. He shouldn’t make the masked man wait for him. He’ll have to figure out how to thank him.

Arkin found a fluffy towel waiting for him. Tears formed as he dried off. So soft. It felt so good. Such a small thing meant volumes. The masked man cared about him.

Clothes waited for Arkin outside the bathroom. The masked man stood not far away. Arkin had intended to say thank you but seeing clothes laid out for him choked the words from his throat. He…could have new clothes? Arkin struggled with the need to cry. 

He hadn’t realized he was shaking until he felt the man’s hand on his shoulder. The man’s hand wasn’t gloved. Glancing up Arkin saw the man had removed his mask. Arkin stared in shock, unable to find words or move. He took his mask off. That… That must mean something. Does that mean..

The man had helped Arkin into a new shirt by the time the shock wore off. It was a button up dress shirt and far nicer than anything he ever owned. The pants too. No, slacks. They weren’t just pants. They were too nice.

Then he was standing fully dressed in nice clothes


	5. Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from nanjcsy: The Collector perhaps teaching his new "pet" Arkin something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tempted to turn this one into its own series! I had more than a few ideas I didn't get to use. So we'll see how my free time flows.

The most infuriating thing, which surprised Arkin a little, was that the man never _spoke._ It would be easier if he was simply told what to do. He still wouldn’t like being held captive by a serial killer but he’d know exactly what was wanted of him and what he needs to do to stay alive. 

God, he should be more bothered by captivity and torture than the willful muteness of his captor. Words from the man were like a rare fleeting gift. 

With no words to guide him, Arkin had to rely on the man’s body language to know what was wanted. What _wasn’t_ was easy. If it wasn’t allowed, he’d hurt him. 

So, what does the man want from him _now._

He’s out of his trunk, he’s not restrained, the door to the room is open. The masked man stands right next to the open door. There is plenty of room for Arkin to dart by… but is that what the man wants? Is it a trap?

Arkin shifts uneasily then looks at the man hoping his body language would offer some clue. The man’s head tilts, ever so slightly, toward the door. He wants him to go through it.

Okay. He can do this. He takes a few cautious steps toward the door, his eyes darting from the opening to the man and back again. He can never be a hundred percent sure what the man wants. 

The man’s stance and expression(if you can call it that) doesn’t change.

Arkin sets one bare foot inside the door frame and realizes immediately he did something wrong. The man’s boot comes down hard on his bare foot then he’s eblowed right in the throat. He staggers back, falling to his knees and choking.

After Arkin finally regains his breath, he glances up at the man, again trying to figure out what he wants.

The man has returned to his previous stance and nods toward the door.

Right. Okay. He _does_ want him to go through the door. Just… not like that.

Arkin draws in a steadying breath. He almost berates himself for not thinking of crawling _first_ \-- but, no, that’s not right. It’s not his fault. It’s not a mistake if he doesn’t know it’s wrong. 

Another deep breath and Arkin starts to crawl. 

He winces, expecting a blow, when his hand crosses the threshold but none comes. He hesitantly looks up.

The man hums, seeming to be pleased. He indicates for Arkin to keep going.

Arkin crawls forward, still wincing now and then expecting to be hit. Once he’s in the hall he realizes he has no idea where he’s supposed to be going. It was a feat simply to exit the room. 

The man strides by him and down the hall. He opens the door to a different room and points inside.

All right. Easy enough, now that Arkin knows what he’s supposed to be doing. It remains easy as the man simply points to where he wants Arkin to go. It’s easy for Arkin to shut off his mind and just follow the unspoken directions. 

Arkin finds himself in the new room. He stops at a simple hand gesture. He slowly sinks back against his heels to see if it’s allowed. He lets out a sigh of relief when he’s not corrected for it.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.


End file.
